Slushies
by HerRoyalMajestyTheQueen
Summary: Maybe "Slushie Facials" aren't ALL bad...


This is an Artina Pairing -I own nothing. Don't Sue (C's it!) me!

The day started out like any other and I thought it was destined to end in the same way. I arrived at school more than twenty minutes early which had become my regular routine this year. We would meet by his locker and sit outside near his first class and share a package of pop tarts, preferably cinnamon.

When I reached him, Artie was just finishing up packing his bag for the day and spun to greet me with his customary, "Hey, Girl." Blue eyes shining in amusement.

We ventured out into the morning sunlight to share our breakfast before the first bell and talk about the AP History test we both had later in the morning. As we finished up we could hear the sounds of people going about their day and decided to join them.

I held the door as he passed through since this technically wasn't a handicapable entrance. I was temporarily blinded by the darkened interior of the hall so I hadn't noticed that Artie had stopped directly inside right in the middle of the hall. When I stepped inside I walked directly into the back of Artie's chair and almost went ass over teacups before balancing myself. These shoes were awesome but they were a bitch to walk in.

By the time my eyes focused I saw Karofsky drop a slushie cup in the nearest trashcan and round the corner.

I looked down at Artie, already knowing what I would see, he'd been another slushie casualty.

He was blinking rapidly and trying to wipe the purple ice from his face. He hadn't made a sound but I winced in empathy.

The bell rang and I glanced around as the hall began to empty. "Just give me a sec, Artie." I grabbed the handles of his chair and rushed him to the nearest bathroom. I took a deep breath and peeked in to the men's room.

All clear, I breathed a sigh of relief, I SO didn't need a visual of Jacob Ben Israel's ass. I wheeled Artie to the low sink and turned it on. When I looked down at him he had his eyes tightly closed to try and block more of the corn syrup from irritating them and his face was scrunched up slightly in a grimace. I leaned forward and gently plucked his glasses from his face and placed them on the back of the sink for wash up, later.

I tested the water to make sure it was a comfortable temperature then took a paper towel and dampened it. I began running it gently over his face trying to clear his face from the forehead down so he could open his eyes. I wiped his forehead and eyes clean and began on his cheeks.

I leaned over him, our faces inches apart, and his eyes opened. I always liked his eyes. Long lashes, creased at the far corners from smiling and they were so big and blue that you could drown in them. I almost melted but remembered that glasses or no, at this range he could see me clearly.

He still hadn't spoken, so I broke the silence, "Got another shirt?"

"In my locker. Monday is a bit early in the week for slushies...I thought I had a few more days." He gave a small shake of his head and ice slid from his temple down his cheek. He shivered sightly.

"I'll be back." I darted out of the bathroom and down the hall to his locker. I knew his combination, 11 23 58, Fibonacci sequence (1,1,2,3,5,8...). After grabbing his gym bag, I brought it with me back to the bathroom, I knew he kept body wash and stuff in there- which could only help.

I slipped back into the bathroom, locked the door and then turned to face Artie. I froze. He had taken his gloves off and had them soaking in a sink. His suspenders were at his hips and his sweater vest was balled up in the other sink, his oxford shirt pooled on top. He had just pulled his plain white v-neck t-shirt off. I took a deep breath and as I stepped forward he glanced towards me with a rueful smile, before holding up the discolored tshirt, "Do you want a tie-dyed t-shirt?" He made a face at the stained garment and peeked back at me.

I smiled a little nervously and a gave a noncommittal, "sure."

He twisted in his chair and tossed the t-shirt in with the rest of his clothes then turned his attention to his gloves and glasses. He wasn't a muscle man but he had a very defined upper body. I always admired the long lean muscles in his arms. I also teased him, more than once, that he hunched over in his chair because his shoulders were too wide. I _really_ liked those shoulders.

He frowned as he rinsed out the grape ice. He ran some more water into the sink and swished them around a bit, then let the water drain. He squeezed as much of the water from his gloves as possible and placed them on the edge of the sink.

He ran his hands under the faucet and used the hand soap to clean his hands and arms, "Tea?"

"Yeah," My voice came out scratchy and I blushed which he thankfully never noticed.

"There should be a wash rag and some body wash in there. Can you get it for me, please?" His voice was tense and I didn't blame him. He must be so angry with those meat-heads. He was always pretty calm even in the worst situations... Even during "stutter-gate" he kept a reign on his temper better than most would. Sometimes I just wanted him to let it all out, lose his temper and get loud. I bet he could really do some damage especially with the benefit of a surprise attack.

"Yep." My fingers fumbled with the zipper. When it opened I almost dropped it. I pushed some things aside and found a light green washcloth and his travel size body wash. I handed him the rag and he ran it under the warm water. I held the bottle in my teeth as I pulled the towel out and re-zipped the bag. I hung the bag on a corner of the toilet stall out of the way then draped the towel over my shoulder and took the bottle from my mouth.

He had begun to run the damp cloth over his neck and torso to get most of the sticky concoction off. I handed him the bottle when he finished his first round of rinsing. As he soaped up the wash rag and scrubbed his hands, face and neck I had to look away. My cheeks were burning.

It was completely ridiculous. I'd seen him at the pool and in pajama pants before and it never got to me. I had to concentrate on some thing else… anything else.

Glasses! I didn't want the sugar to harden on his glasses. I stepped forward to clean them and as I leaned over his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I was so startled I let out an embarrassing, "meep!"

"Sorry!" He opened his fingers and they slid from my wrist but I could still feel the residual heat from his grip and the slight dampness from his impromptu sponge bath. "Sorry. I- I didn't mean to scare you." He tilted his head in my direction and I could see his eyes were straining because he was trying to focus.

"S'ok." It really was. It's not like I didn't want him to touch me or something. I was just startled. I didn't think he was paying attention and he was so quick I was caught off guard. "No worries. I just didn't expect it." I said as I nudged him playfully with my hip.

"I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to stay with me. I got this." He said as I once again reached for his glasses.

"I know." I kept my voice low. He leaned forward into the sink and started running his hand through his hair. I heard a plop and saw the sugary substance hit the white sink. He needed to get that out of his hair. I tucked his glasses in the pocket of my cardigan (yes cardigan, it has skulls on it - shut up!) and reached or his bag.

"Turn around."

"Wha-?"

"I'm going to wash your hair."

"Oh, um, you don't-"

"We'll I am."

"Yes, Ma'am." He couldn't hide his grin as he spun his chair around. I motioned for him to tilt his chair back onto the auxiliary wheels. Once he was tilted on an angle he locked the chair.

"Smartass." I walked over to him and placed the bottle of shampoo on his lap and turned on the faucet. He fiddled with the bottle while I ran the water to make sure it was nice and warm. "Close your eyes." I put my hand on the back of his neck to guide it down to the sink. His head tilted back and I could feel the tendons and muscles in his neck, flex and move under my fingertips. His hair was matted to his head on one side so I decided to start on that. The water began to seep into his hair and his brow furrowed. The clumps of ice still clinging to his hair pooled in the drain momentarily, then melted away.

Once his hair was soaked through I reached for the shampoo and he flinched slightly. When I looked down I saw a trail of water slide down his chest, "Sorry."

"No worries."

I flipped the cap on the shampoo bottle open and poured some in my other hand. I let the bottle sit in the sink while I worked the suds through his hair. I leaned over him for the rinse. Using one hand I blocked the water from going into his eyes and once the water ran clear I turned off the faucet. I squeezed out some of the excess water before reaching for the towel that I hooked over the edge of the stall and when I turned towards him he had began trying to sit up.

I extended my still damp hand and pressed against his upper chest signaling him to remain where he was and he complied without any resistance. I could feel the heat of his chest on the palm of me hand and for a moment I curled my fingers to savor the sensation as I pulled my hand back. As I leaned over him with the towel he closed his eyes once more and I almost sighed with relief. He always seemed to see everything when his gaze found yours, like you could hide nothing.

I went to work on his still dripping hair and when I felt it was dry enough I moved on to his forehead. I followed his hairline and swiped the towel over his ears and I lifted his head to get the back of his neck. Never once did he open his eyes. All the lines on his face were smooth and he looked calm.

I didn't want to wreck that tranquility but I knew that we both had to get to class eventually so I applied a little more pressure to the back of his head to urge him forward and his hands automatically left his lap to unlock and stabilize his chair. Once he was upright again I noticed that he still had water drops on his shoulder so I wiped them off as well. A drop escaped and continued down his chest, It was like my hands had a mind of their own. I couldn't help myself. I reached out with my other hand and caught it on my fingertips as it slid towards his navel.

My hand was flat against his abdomen when he turned his head and looked up. His cheeks were flushed and I saw the muscle in his jaw clench. His reaction had me thinking that he was angry at me before I dismissed that because it was probably just residual anger at the asshat jocks. I slowly pulled my hand back from his stomach and wiped the remainder of the water from my hands. When I straightened up again I patted his shoulder. I took a step back and caught sight of his glasses.

Knowing he needed his specs; I turned and stepped closer once more to reach them - just as he spun his chair around.

The side of his chair hit the back of my left knee just as I transferred all of my weight to it. Suddenly I was windmilling backwards. I caught a glance at my shocked face in the mirror before I landed in a sprawl across Artie's lap. He gave a sharp intake of breath then clamped his left arm around my ribs and his right hand held the base of my skull – preventing me from cracking it on his arm rest.

There was a moment of shocked silence before I looked up to see Artie fighting not to laugh. The look on his face was all it took for me to crack up. We laughed until we were out of breath with me still draped across his lap. We never did make it to our 1st periods and we just barely made it to History.


End file.
